


Tumblr Made Me Do It

by ProcrastinatingArtist



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Darcy Lewis, Established Relationship, F/M, Feelings, First Date, Florist!Darcy, Fluff, Laser Tag, Meet-Cute, POV First Person, ShieldShock - Freeform, Staying up all night, Steve to the rescue, TattooArtist!Steve, Tony Stark builds more robots, Tumblr Prompt, kind of, oblivious Jane is oblivious, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-03-14 19:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13596393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingArtist/pseuds/ProcrastinatingArtist
Summary: A collection of ficlets inspired by Tumblr.Not gonna lie, it's all fluff. Ooey gooey fluff.Maybe occasional feels.Welcome to Darcyland.





	1. "Permission to Shoot"

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first fic. Plz don't kill me. 
> 
> I intend to make this a compilation of prompts I’ve turned into little ficlets. I may or may not come back and lengthen these in the future. No promises.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Permission to shoot him.”
> 
> “Permission denied. Reluctantly.”
> 
> “Aww c’mon. Just once?” She wheedled.
> 
> Inspired by a tumblr prompt http://writing-challenges-and-prompts.tumblr.com/post/149405102583/writing-prompt-dialogue

“Permission to shoot him.”

“Permission denied. Reluctantly.”

 

“Aww c’mon. Just once?” She wheedled. 

 

——

 

Darcy wasn’t being trained to go on missions. She wasn’t even really being trained to use weapons. She was just supposed to be running around after her mad scientists and making sure they stay properly hydrated. So when Tony flies in wearing his Iron Man suit and tells them all to find a safe room, that there’s a small issue that the Avengers will be taking care of, they just need to “go,  _ now, _ ” Darcy’s job was to make sure they all did as they were told. 

 

Wrangling scientists isn’t as easy as it sounds. 

 

Bruce was fairly easy. As soon as Tony left, he was looking up the nearest safe rooms and plotting courses. 

 

Jane was something else. She’s not always the most observant, but you’d think freaking  _ Iron Man _ blasting in, creating a mini paper tornado, and ordering them about in his creepy robot voice would catch her attention. 

 

And Darcy had spent so long organizing all that paperwork. 

 

So, Bruce had already left to keep himself out of the action, the interns and minor scientists found another, different safe room just in case, and Darcy was left with Jane. Who was apparently on the verge of a scientific breakthrough of some sort and was not responding to anything Darcy did. 

 

“Jane. Janie. JANE. Dammit woman,” Darcy muttered. Maybe there was a power switch. Every fancy science machine has a power switch, right?

 

The sound of a distant explosion made its way to the lab. 

 

“Ok, Janie, that’s the lunch bell. Time to go eat.”

 

“Jus a min…” was all the response she got from her. 

 

It was something. 

 

“Nope. Now. Let’s go!” Darcy shoved her towards the door, slapping away the hands that reached back towards the machinery. 

 

Another explosion rocked the Avengers facility, this time catching Jane’s attention. 

 

“What’s going on!!”

 

_ Now she freaking notices _ , Darcy griped. “Oh, nothing much. Just someone trying to blow us up again.”

 

They make it to another safe room, because Darcy’s freaking good at her job. She ought to be, for as often as she has to do it. Hardly a month goes by that she doesn’t run the same route to the same Jane-proof safe room because some baddie or other wants to get to something Stark owns.  _ You’d think they’d learn _ . 

 

After about an hour, the door opens. Usually, whatever post-SHIELD underling was nearest let them out, so when the door opened and freaking  _ Captain America  _ is standing there, it’s totally understandable for Darcy to stare. With her mouth hanging open. 

 

Right?

 

“You ladies ok in there?” Came the chivalrous inquiry. 

 

Darcy managed to shut her mouth. “Oh yeah. We’re good.”

 

“Oh no!” Jane bolted out of the room. As she disappeared down the hallway leading towards the lab, they could hear her exclaim, “That was time sensitive!”

 

Darcy ran her hands over her face. Hopefully, it wasn’t the explosive type of time sensitive. 

 

“Miss?”

 

“Huh? Oh right. Hey, Cap. I’m gonna go make sure nothing explodey happens.” Darcy manages to walk backwards towards the lab, mostly because she didn’t want to take her eyes off the magnificence that is ‘sweaty Captain America after battle.’ Maybe this is why Thor always shows up glistening, like he just finished working out. That would also explain why both he and Jane are hard to find for about a day afterwards. 

 

“That happen often?” He seemed amused. 

 

It took Darcy a second to recall what they were talking about. Sweaty Cap was very distracting. “Oh. Explosions? I mean, sometimes? It really depends on what they’re working on. And whether Scott decided he wanted to help again. 

And how much sleep they’ve all had. Then there was that one time I left my pop tart next to something Bruce was working on…” Darcy trailed off, beginning to think explosions happened much more often than she thought. 

 

Fortunately, Steve just chuckled. “Maybe I should check in on you more often.”

 

“Ha. Yeah, maybe you should,” Darcy mused.

 

A distant explosion sounded, and they both turned towards the lab.  _ Whoops _ , Darcy thought.  _ Guess it was explodey.  _

 

“Was that-“

 

“Yep. That was indeed the lab, Mr. America. Don’t worry. They know where the fire extinguishers are.” She glanced back at him, mostly to make sure she hadn’t dreamed him. Again. “Gotta go. You should go, uh, clean up or whatever you do after battles.” With that, Darcy bolted back to the lab. 

 

——

 

It was not, in fact, something Darcy or Jane had done that created that explosion. It was actually caused by one one of the baddies the Avengers wrangled just moments before. One they hadn’t actually found yet. Because these baddies had the good fortune - for them - to look like Stark bots. Because Tony had actually created these little bots to defend the base whenever all the Avengers were called out.

 

He was obviously still working out the coding. 

 

“Darcy! Look out!”

 

She whirled, and saw a Stark bot streaking towards her. She ducked, but felt it whiz by, blowing her hair over her face. 

 

Suddenly, she heard the Iron Man thrusters fire up. 

 

_ That better be Tony, and not a bot.  _

 

—- 

 

Steve bursts into the lab, ready to take down more robots. What he found was...not what he was expecting. 

 

Darcy was standing over Tony, Iron Man gauntlet on one hand, taser in the other. Jane was across the room, punching buttons on a machine that looked like it was about to catch fire, once again completely oblivious to her surroundings. The various interns were near Jane, decidedly not interested in getting between Darcy and Tony. Bruce - or the hulk - was nowhere to be found. 

 

“It was an accident!” Tony shouted. The gauntlet was still whirring ominously, and he didn’t really fancy getting his head blown off today. Or getting another hole in his chest. 

 

Darcy kicked him. Granted, she may not have been aiming for his nuts, but that’s what she got. 

 

“No,  _ that _ was an accident.You  _ built _ the robots! Why do we need robots to protect us?”

 

“Alright! I get it!” He yelled. “You’re a strong, independent hot chick who can take down anyone she wants whenever she wants! I should obviously not try to protect you ever again.” He cringed into a smaller ball, and from his already curled up position from the kick, it was rather impressive. 

 

Darcy finally noticed Steve standing just inside the doors, shield arm hanging by his side, mouth agape. 

 

“Permission to shoot him.”

 

“Permission denied. Reluctantly.”

 

“Aww c’mon. Just once?” She wheedled.

 

Steve laughed. He couldn’t help it. She looked like a kid he just stole candy from. “No, Darcy. You can’t shoot Tony because he accidentally set robots on everyone.”

 

“Ok, then….permission to tase him?”

 

“No! God no! Please, Steve! Don’t let her tase me!” 

 

“Yeah, stand down soldier. I think kicking him in the family jewels taught him his lesson.” Steve couldn’t keep the laughter out of his tone.  _ What a dame,  _ he thought. 

 

She huffed out a sigh. “Fine. But you gotta make that up to me,” she pointed at Steve with the gauntleted hand. 

 

“Sure,” he agreed. “How about dinner?”

 

Darcy’s mouth dropped open. 

 

“And where did you get the gauntlet?” Steve grinned. “Because I know for a fact that he removed all of the Iron Man up on the roof when we thought the battle was over.” 

 

Darcy was still short circuiting over the question of dinner. 

 

“Foster wanted to take a look at it. Thought it was underperforming.” Tony had gotten back on his feet, and had put some distance between himself and Darcy.

 

Steve just grinned. 

 

“Dinner?” Darcy finally squeaked out. Her imagination was now running ninety miles a minute. Dinner with Steve Rogers? America’s golden boy? Time’s “Sexiest Man Alive” three years in a row since he got out of the ice? 

 

“Yes. Tonight ok? How does seven sound?”

 

“Yeah.” Darcy breathed. “Seven. Good. Yes.”

 

“Great. Let me just take these,” Steve said as he gently removed the gauntlet and taser, “ and I’ll see you soon.” 

 

Darcy didn’t move as he and Tony left the lab. And she would deny (to anyone but Jane) that she stared at the Star Spangled Ass as he walked out. 

 

_ What a day.  _


	2. Petals and Ink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Florist/tattooist au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember seeing a tumblr post about your otp owning a tattoo shop and a flower shop side by side. But switching who you’d think actually owned them. So, this is my take.

She would see him walk in front of her shop most afternoons, going or coming from what she assumed was a lunch break. His shaggy hair would gleam in the sunlight, all golds and platinums and sunshine. Ink would peek out from his collar and she would wonder what that one was. It swirled and dove back under the collar, and he would be gone before she could really figure it out.

He would see her lock up most evenings, double-checking the locks and carrying a basket of wilting flowers. The reds of the sunset would kiss her silhouette, and a breeze sometimes plays with her hair. Wisps would fly out of the loose hold of pins and beg him to tuck them behind her ear. She hardly ever notices them, instead pulling a flower from her basket and tucking it behind her ear instead, and he would wonder if she did that for another man.

Sometimes she would stare at his store, at the edgy graffiti type and grinning logo, and wonder if that was the kind of work he specializes in. She wonders what it would be like to own one of his works. What it would be like to get it. She would stare at his storefront for so long, sometimes, that she would think she sees him behind the tinted windows, staring back. Then she remembers she was supposed to be watering.

Over his store is an apartment, and that’s where he lives. He wakes early, and drinks coffee as he waits for the rest of the world to revive. Mornings are always his favorite time of day. He can stare out at the flower shop across the street, and pretend she’s there already, long hair clipped back, tending the delicate blooms in the window. Staring back at him, though he knows she can’t see him. The other artists have begun to tease him, claiming his art takes him twice as long as usual to make. Of course, it’s not true, but that’s how he learns he’s serious.

One day, she leaves her shop early. He notices, of course, because he’s begun to notice everything about her. The tiny slivers of copper wound through the maple of her hair. The way her apron cinches in on a figure he’s sure he’s been asked to design before, for men who desire sultry mermaids and goddesses and angels to grace their skin with their presence. The way she walks, as though she only happened to end up where she does, no matter where she goes.

He wonders where she could be going, not long after she had returned from her break.

A customer distracts him then, with ideas of dragons and swords and scrolls, and he sighs to himself, resigned to never know. Sam, however, gives him a knowing look, but not everyone gets to have the kind of passion in a relationship that Sam does.

He’s wrapping up the dragon customer when the bell over the door rings, alerting him to a walk-in. He doesn’t give it much notice, knowing Sam will schedule them later in the week. It’s as he’s walking back to the front with the dragon guy, reiterating tattoo care, when he sees her.

She’s second guessing herself as she opens the door. She doesn’t know what to expect inside. The clean grey paint and fifties-era teal vinyl would not have been one of her guesses. The tiny bell cheerfully proclaims her presence, and a man at a counter looks up and grins at her.

“Our lovely florist neighbor! Welcome!”

She blushes. “Hi.”

He pauses to see if she says anything more, but she’s still looking around. “Something you want you got in mind?”

She starts a bit. “Uh, maybe? But I wasn’t sure what you guys specialize in, so…”

“Anything for you, darling. What do ya want?”

At his easy manner, she begins to relax. “I was kinda wanting something floral, actually. Got anyone good with cherry blossoms?”

“Ooh, specific. Love a woman who knows her mind,” the man laughs. He holds out his hand. “I’m Sam. I know exactly who can get ya what you want.”

Shaking his hand, she grins back. “Good.”

Sam chatters at her some more, but she can barely pretend to be listening. Her heart is beating wildly in her chest, and she’s sure her mother is rolling in her grave at the mere fact she’s standing in a tattoo parlor now. But this is it. Nat convinced her today, swearing she would never regret this. Oh how she wanted to believe her!

“Steve here is our best; he’ll take good care of you.” Sam pats her on the shoulder, and heads back to the front. A man without a shirt and a wide swath of plastic on his back squeezes past her in the hallway Sam had led her down, and she’s standing in front of him now. Steve.

“Hi,” she says again.

He stares a second longer. Deep blue eyes stare back.

He blinks first.

“Oh. Hey, I’m Steve.” He puts his hand out, just as Sam had. When she takes it, he doesn’t shake, but uses it to gently tug her towards a room further back. “Sam said you wanted something up my alley?”

His hand is warm, and so big around hers. She nods, but realizes he couldn’t see it. Gathering her courage, she decides to brazen her way through it. “Yes. You do floral work?”

He smirks back at her. “Not as much as you do, but yeah. I do some floral work.”

They enter what is obviously his work space. Half-finished sketches decorate the walls, an ink-spattered rolling counter sits near the chair she’ll soon be occupying. An old-fashioned wooden desk is pushed into the far corner, also covered in sketches, accompanied by graphite pencils, marker pens, brushes, and an inkwell.

He sets about wiping up what’s left of the fresh ink from his last appointment, knowing he’ll dedicate whatever time is needed to her. Whatever it takes to make her stay just a little bit longer.

Her focus comes back to him as he moves about. His right arm is half covered in ink, a swirling replica of a Van Gogh piece wrapping around a bicep, blending into a leafy vine and the edge of the American flag before disappearing under the sleeve of his black T-shirt. A half-familiar album cover is visible on his left shoulder blade, and a line of mostly indecipherable text runs down the inside of his left arm, though she does see the word “end.”

The tat on his chest is still out of sight.

His poke at her job finally sinks in, and she wonders whether he watches her as much as she does him. She tries not to blush and speaks up again. “Oh, but I’m here for the best. If I can’t get a beautiful cluster of cherry blossoms here, I may have to find someone better at floral work than I am.”

Hea facing her now and smirking again. “No need for threats, doll. I’m the best you’ll find around here.”

He turns to shuffle through some of his sketchbooks, but she stops him with one word.

“Darcy.”

Looking at her, she could have been the picture for nonchalance in the dictionary, but he could see the blush creeping up her cheeks. “Darcy,” he repeats softly, then turns back to the sketches.

She’s glad he turned, cheeks now redder than the poppy she had tucked in her hair that afternoon.

Back at the reception desk, Sam received a phone call. Grinning, he calls another of the artists to the front.

A tall man with a very hipster hair-bun and an epic full-sleeve of steampunk gearage on his left arm takes the phone. “Hey babe! What’s up?”

“Darcy walked in a few minutes ago,” the woman, his fiancé, on the line replies. “Sam says he got them set up.”

“What!” He glares at Sam. “Why didn’t you tell me she came in!”

“I didn’t know-“ Sam starts.

“I just barely got her talked into it,” Natasha soothes at the same time. “Cmon, Bucky. You know you’re not good at stealth when you’re excited.”

A few hours later, Darcy and Steve leave the back room. Her forearm is wrapped, and they’re booth grinning like loons. Sam and Bucky are both standing by the door, accompanied by Nat, still in her florist’s apron.

She cocks an eyebrow at the two idiots, while the men outright smirk at them.

Neither Steve nor Darcy have the grace to blush. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I can totally see Steve doing both jobs. But it just seemed slightly less likely to see him covered in tattoos, so that’s what I did :)


	3. You Stole My Notebook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr post found on Pinterest:  
> “I’m not stalking you, exactly, it’s just that you accidentally put my notebook in your bag and I’m waiting for a good moment to steal it back before you see the doodles of you I did in it”

Yeah, this one is getting its own home. Find it under the same name!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'm evil and haven't actually written it all yet. It's a solid three pages longer than my other two chapters here, so I'm pretty proud of myself. No idea how much longer this will be, just know I'm not done yet. Don't panic.
> 
> Questions? Comments? Strong opinions? Find me on tumblr: darcyland-ideas


	4. Lasers and Fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Take me laser tagging and then push me into a corner and kiss me. Then shoot me and walk away”
> 
> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/AdMtr3tne5w1LqypPDnaCy1PM2ZUg4LKQXzejaikc0MhXn2fWWJ3pYc/

It was one of my better ideas, if I say so myself. Jane was spending way too much time locked up in her lab and who doesn’t like laser tag? I mean honestly. It’s the American Pastime. Well, it is for me.

 

You gotta be sneaky with Jane though. She doesn’t like being taken away from the science for very long. So, under the guise of getting dinner out for once, I dragged her out of the lab and into a Stark-issue car. The driver already knew the plan (thanks Friday!), so I could have said anything to him and still would have gotten to the right place. Also, Jane couldn’t have gotten him to turn around either, had she taken her nose out of her phone. 

 

As for the rest of the crew, I had to get a little help. Or, rather, a big help. I tried asking Tony, because I figured he’d like some time away from tinkering in  _ his _ lab or saving the world. But no, Mr. Metal Pants said he got a hot date and didn’t want to miss it. Don’t know who with; Pepper was more than willing to join us. He was probably just not wanting to come and didn’t want to be lame. Typical. 

 

No, I had to get the Man With A Plan to organize the rest of the tag-goers. I mean, I guess the name is fitting. Why not? He throws a shield around and usually avoids guns; that’s not to say he can’t use guns really, really well, it’s just that he’ll be on fairly even footing with the rest of us. Ok, well, at least, the rest of us that took the gun training courses. Like me. Don’t get me wrong, I love my taser. But there’s something about being a hot chick (with a lot of self-confidence) holding a gun that leaves a “don’t mess with me” message. That, and I feel a little like Natasha, and that’s always a plus in my book. 

 

But anyways. Steve was keeping everyone else together and waiting on Jane and me to arrive. 

 

It wasn’t a big turnout; some of the science nerds and various interns from all over the tower. Steve. The Carter lady was there, but I don’t think she meant to go tagging with us. Probably some rule about having a lot of Stark employees in the same place outside of work needing a chaperone or something. An armed chaperone. 

 

We all got outfitted once Jane and I show up. Jane got on board once I told her she had to play at least one game before she could leave. I may have left out the bit where the drivers would only be back to pick us all up when we were done, not in the next 20 minutes. 

 

I forgot about the vests. They’re kind of essential to making the whole laser-tag thing work. It’s not like there’s actual projectiles or an honor system or something. I feel like there’s a line about there not being any honor in war I can quote here. But the vests! They’re heavier than I remember, and the cord that connects it to the laser gun pulls a little at the front of it. It’s kinda like being in a bulletproof traffic-cop vest. Those bright yellow ones? Yeah. 

 

Anyways, I am just getting my last strap clipped on and I look up and Steve is getting his ...sized up. His leather jacket had to come off, as well as whatever other padding he had worn here. That poor worker probably had never been that close to a man that size, let alone Captain America himself. In a tight white tank, no less. Poor girl.

 

Poor vest. These things weren’t made for people his size. It was barely holding on, hugging him so tightly, he would have creases when it came off. What a sight.

 

Worker lady finally got it to stay on him. She’s got good constitution, standing that close to him for such a long time. But now she’s going on about safety and rules, and let’s be honest: I’m totally not paying attention.

 

Actually, if I’m going to be totally honest, Captain Underpants and I have a bit of a thing going. Ever since he started coming down to the labs for updates on the Buckster’s arm (that hasn’t been attached, because obviously we’re not going to hold someone previously known as the Winter Soldier for an unknown amount of time in a laboratory), I’ve been...well, if I was a dude and he was a chick, it’d be sexual harassment. But he’s the Cap and I’m Darcy. And that’s why this works. He turns red and I grin and he comes back the next day for more of my charming wit and innuendo. And the next day. And the next. 

 

I don’t believe he’s come in for the arm for a while now.

 

Finally, we’re set free to wreak havoc on the unsuspecting nerds of Stark Industries.

 

The arena is mostly dark, lit only by blacklights set into the walls intermittently, and the lights on the vests and guns as we all rand around, dodging behind the foam constructs and trying to coordinate with our teams. Jane was on my team, but thankfully, Ian wasn’t. I could virtually shoot him to my heart’s content.

 

Steve, unfortunately, was also not on my team. However, I can make any situation work to my advantage. Catching a glimpse of a very broad blonde between a room-like construct and a roundish boulder-thing, I start to dart over.

 

I almost make it to the boulder before someone “shot” me. We’re playing by kiddie rules, so we can be shot who cares how many times, we just have to freeze until we come back online. Honor system and all that. By the time my suit lights back up (about 5 seconds), I’ve lost sight of Steve. 

 

No big. Seeing Ian, I shot him. Probably more times than was strictly necessary, but who knows what the accuracy on these laser guns was. It’s not like they have a sight on them. I dodge one of the players on my team - Betty, maybe? - and shoot another on the other team - take that Helen!

 

Zipping around one of the corners, I stumble onto Steve. He’s looking through one of the peek-holes in the walls, like he’s actually on a mission. Gun clasped in both hands, back to the wall, head turned impossibly far around to look behind him. 

 

I can feel the grin spreading across my face. I know exactly what I’m going to do. All those days of banter. A girl needs some action, right?

 

I honestly don’t remember walking up to him, but it was probably super sexy. Not that it matters, because he didn’t know I was there until I grabbed a fistful of shirt (because that vest was way too tight to get a hold on). 

 

“Surprise.” What a dumb thing to say. Why did I say that. I totally had a line I could have used!

 

Thankfully, Steve’s mouth kicks up into a grin too. Before he can get any words out of that (sinfully delicious) mouth, I lean in and kiss him. 

 

Now, I haven’t kissed anyone like that in a while. But I’m mostly certain that this kiss was the first time all the noise faded away until his lips under mine was all I could sense; the taste of his breath mingling with mine; the strong muscle of his chest under my fingertips. His hand behind my head, holding me to him as though there was no tomorrow without me.

 

Slowly, reluctantly, the laser game faded back into existence around us, our little bubble of privacy threatening to pop. Stepping back just as reluctantly, the sheer surprise and clear  _ want _ on his face helping me regain my smirk, I felt the forgotten, cold hard plastic in my right hand. 

 

Raising the laser gun, smirk growing wider as his eyes did in recognition, I pulled the trigger. 

 

I get the feeling he’ll be coming for me soon. He better. I want to kiss him again.


	5. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](https://darcyland-ideas.tumblr.com/post/172692290976/givethispromptatry-ever-wonder-how-you-will)
> 
> Established relationships and sleep patterns

Mornings were never good for Darcy. She always had to have at least two ventis before she felt remotely awake, though  _ when _ she finishes her coffee could also be a fator. The same could not be said for Steve. Some mornings, he would be waking up before she was even thinking of sleeping, still tapping out documents for Jane or last-minute assignments for Culver. Those mornings, Steve would kiss her forehead, remind her she needed sleep, and start their coffee pot when he got back from his run. Other nights, when they went to bed together, he stayed up well past his usual bedtime; then again, he had much better things to do those nights. 

 

Occasionally, a job would keep him from coming home a few nights in a row, and those nights, neither of them slept. Darcy got in the habit of staying in the common areas with Bucky - who has yet to be cleared by the psychologists for regular duty - and anyone else who wanted to join them, watching movies or playing board games. Her poker face has improved greatly from those nights, much to the other Avengers’ chagrin, and though she doesn’t sleep, she is at least in good company and spirits for the duration.

 

She can’t figure out  _ why _ she has to be awake while Steve’s gone, she just  _ is _ . She knows he’s the closest thing to invincible in this universe - buildings have been dropped on him and he’s survived - but something wired into the deepest, most primal parts of her brain insist she  _ worry _ about her lover, her family, her friends. And she stays awake.

 

After yet another winning hand, Darcy collects her prize - not money, something much more valuable: favors - as their “front door” opens to the Black Widow and Captain America. Neither are seriously injured, sporting only a few scratches and bruises between them. Natasha immediately heads to the fridge and drinks the orange juice straight from the carton, while Steve drops his shield and starts peeling off the outer layer of his uniform. 

 

This Darcy is more than happy to help with, and they are soon heard giggling from their apartment. Bucky just smirks at Natasha as the others - Sam, Wanda, and Tony - take their leave. No one will admit they were all waiting up for them to return, but everyone knows; since it doesn’t matter who is gone, the rest always wait. 

 

The next morning finds Darcy - surprisingly - already awake and waiting on her third espresso when Steve leaves their rooms. Jane, never a morning person but always up early regardless, was blindly munching on a pop tart with her own coffee in easy reach. Everyone else had yet to make an appearance. 

 

Steve admired his zombie-girlfriend in the early morning light. So close to the top of Tony’s tower, the sun floods through the floor-to-ceiling windows a few minutes before it reaches the rushing commuters far below. In the golden beams, Darcy’s chestnut hair gleams bronze in soft waves down her back, mussed from the night’s activities. He wants to bury his hands in it and kiss her senseless again. Turning, mug in hand, Darcy finally notices him. Carefully hiding a grin, she asks, “Ever wonder how you’ll die?”

 

Steve blinks out of his imagination, blindsided. “Wh-what?”

 

“Because I’ve been thinking. You’re pretty much indestructible, you know, so all the normal options are out.” 

 

Finally catching her mood, Steve grins. “Hm, never really thought about it. The way things have been going lately, I’m inclined towards overexhaustion in the sack.” Darcy grins back unrepentantly. “And you?”

 

“Oh, I know how I’m gonna die.” She sips her espresso as Steve’s eyebrows raise in question. Jane appears to have fallen asleep again, pop tart halfway to her mouth. “I’m gonna drink too much coffee and vibrate out of existence.”

  
Steve burst out laughing, causing Darcy to giggle along and startling Jane into opening her eyes. She took a long drink of her own coffee and waited for the other two to quiet down. When finally they did, Jane leveled a Look ™ at them. “That can be arranged.”


End file.
